


All The Scars That Are Hidden Underneath

by darknessinastateofmind



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins, The Hunger Games (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, And violence, Angst, BAMF Katniss and Peeta, Bombs, Dark, Depression, End game everlark, F/M, Grand Central Station, Hospitals, Minor Character Death, POV Third Person, PTSD, Support Group, Trigger for terrorists, Violence, emotionally constipated katniss, everlark, so don't read if, terrorist attack, that's triggery, there is fluff though
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-19
Updated: 2015-10-26
Packaged: 2018-04-10 03:05:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,680
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4374800
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darknessinastateofmind/pseuds/darknessinastateofmind
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Katniss Everdeen's life wasn't perfect, but at least she was happy. Now, she has nothing.</p><p>In the wake of a devastating tragedy that rocks the nation and forever changes Katniss' life, she tries to find meaning in a world without those she loves most. </p><p>Enter Peeta Mellark, a charming, yet secretive boy who's circumstances have forced him into a man. </p><p>They meet by chance one afternoon, tied together by similar tragedies and a goal to leave their past far behind.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. One

**Author's Note:**

> A million thank you's to my beta, Briony, and also FightForFiction for the incredible banner (which I am unable to put in correctly)! 
> 
> Again, don't read if violence and terrorists are triggers for you. 
> 
> I hope you guys enjoy!

 

 

It’s a good day for seventeen-year-old Katniss Everdeen. She’s ninety-eight percent sure she’s landed a job at old Haymitch’s sandwich shop, there’s no school due to summer vacation, and her mother hasn’t had an episode in weeks. Katniss and her little sister Prim always know to make the best out of her mother’s good moods. They both know it will be a long day when their father walks down the stairs, looking ten years older than usual, and says, “Your mother’s sick today. Let’s all be quiet, okay girls?” Her father is harder to read. He’s almost always smiling, always joking around with Katniss and her sister, always acting happy for the two of them.

 

Katniss is pretty sure he pretends.

 

They’re at a train station in New York City called Grand Central Terminal. Katniss supposes it’s all-famous, considering the amount of people and important-looking plaques, but who knows. Katniss is history-stupid that way. Or just doesn’t do her homework.

 

Visiting train stations is one of the best things of traveling. Katniss loves the oldness of train stations, she loves imagining people from years ago traveling to faraway places, taking adventures she will never have.

 

On this day, just like many others before, Katniss’s family does not have anywhere particular to go. But she thinks, standing there watching Prim dance and her parents smile gently at each other, hand in hand… Katniss thinks, this is happiness. This is what happiness feels like.

 

Because even though her mother is not always there, even though her father works everyday, underpaid, day and night, even though her parents probably don’t have enough money to send her to college, Katniss knows that she would never change her family for anything in the world.

 

She laughs at Prim, who had grabbed their parents’ hands and started to dance around with them, her white blouse untucked, much like a duck’s tail. “Katniss! Come dance with us!” Prim calls in her innocent voice, giggling as her father picks her up and spins her through the air.

 

“Coming!” Katniss obliges, rolling her eyes. No matter how sweet Prim acts, she’s twelve-years-old, not an infant. In her opinion, twelve is a little too old for dancing in public. Nevertheless, Katniss still does as Prim asks. She loves her little sister too much to deny her anything.

 

As she ambles over to her family, grumbling under her breath, Katniss notices how beautiful the sunlight looks, reflecting through the blue-tinted windows, causing light ripples of color to dance on the ground. She also notices a boy about her age with golden-blonde curls and bright blue eyes, standing a few steps away from her. His mouth is twisted in a frown; the motion looking foreign and awkward on him. Katniss gets the sense he smiles a lot. He seems to be arguing with a woman who has the same blue eyes. The women’s eyes, though, are cold and mean. A light-haired man with deep creases in his face and two more handsome blonde-haired teenagers stand not far off.

 

“Kat-niss!” Prim’s demanding voice interrupts her thoughts. “Are you _coming_ or not?”

 

Tearing her eyes away from the blonde-headed family, Katniss nods. “Yeah, Prim. Com-”

 

And that was when three bombs hidden in three separate trash cans exploded. The time set on each bomb was 10:45 AM. The time they exploded was 10:45 AM. Only one bomb did not go off. It was hidden in the trash can three feet away from Katniss Everdeen.

 

***

 

Pain. That was all that she felt. Just pain. She isn’t sure of anything but the intense pain throbbing all throughout her body. Katniss doesn’t know how long she feels the pain before it sort of… disappears. It’s just as intense, if not worse, than before, but it just blends in. Becomes the white-washed background, the monotone voices of people talking on the phone that she had effectively learned to block out. She’s not unconscious; Katniss is hyper-aware she’s awake, but her senses aren’t working and all she can do is lie there.

 

She must’ve passed out, because the next thing she’s aware of is much worse than the pain.

 

Buzzing. There was a buzzing sound in Katniss Everdeen’s head. No, not head, her brain. The sound was much deeper than that. Deep, like the ocean. Did she even have a head?

 

Where the hell is the ocean? Aren’t they in New York? There’s supposed to be an ocean here. Wait… that’s not right. They must be in Florida, for there to be an ocean.

 

She tastes blood in her mouth. How can there be blood if she doesn’t have a fucking head? Or a brain. She’s dead she’s gone she’s a million purple cells tossed over the ground and she knew a kid… Where is she? Think! Where are you where are you where are you WHERE ARE YOU!

 

Not New York not Florida not anymore not anywhere! Remember you’re a million purple cells. There’s blood everywhere! She’s bleeding backwards into her nose…. and he’s choking her and choking her. Why is there no sound? OPEN YOUR EYES. OPEN YOUR EARS. You need sound. Or do you? You’re just a million purple cells, after all.

 

BEWARE THE COW. Where did she see that sign before? Wait, she can’t see… how can she see the sign? What sign? She used to have eyes right? But she can’t because she’s bleeding backwards and she’s choking, choking, on her own blood… or is it him? STOP STOP STOP IT. What is she thinking what is happening where did she see that sign before...

 

***

 

It’s not fair that it’s raining on Prim and her father’s funeral day.

 

Katniss and her sister always used to talk about their funerals, what music would be played, the weather, etc. Prim always said that if she died first, she would want the sun to be out, symbolizing a new beginning or whatever. She used to say that there would be a rainbow, and it would be her, saying hello! and please move on, I love you! Prim said that everyone would wear light blue, her favorite color, and the music played would be anything One Direction, her favorite band.

 

But there is no rainbow. Everyone is wearing black. It is raining. And an old woman dressed possibly like a nun from The Sound Of Music is cackling out Amazing Grace.

 

Katniss runs away.

 

But it’s not like in some popular romantic comedy where the badass girl runs away from the depressing scene/funeral and stumbles to some old sycamore tree, sobbing her eyes out until the hot guy she’s been pushing away but secretly loves comes over with a black umbrella and stands there in the pouring rain, shielding her but stands in the bitter cold, just because he loves her.

 

No.

 

It doesn’t end up like that, because her life is not a Hollywood movie that gets 52% on Rotten Tomatoes for being “too predictable” and “a bit cheesy”.

 

No.

 

Katniss is nothing but a badly burned, half deaf girl with no father, and no sister. She’s a cupcake without frosting, a peanut butter sandwich with no jelly, a bird without wings.

 

No. She doesn’t start crying. Instead, Katniss walks home and climbs the stairs to the room she and her sister used to share and falls asleep on the bed.

 

It’s easier this way.

 

***

 

“Katniss, can you drive me downtown this afternoon?” Her mother asks softly from her wheelchair. They’re in the kitchen. Katniss is at the counter while her mom’s wheelchair is parked by the window.

 

Katniss doesn’t look up from the piece of toast she’s slaughtering with peanut butter. “Sure. Where you going?”

 

She shifts uneasily in her seat and Katniss can hear the whirr as she moves the electric wheelchair forward. “Um… just this adult therapy group for people who have mental illness and have been in… traumatic experiences.”

 

Katniss looks up and drops the knife in the sink, raising her eyebrow questionably. “And…?”

 

“There’s also this… this adolescent group for kids ages twelve to eighteen. It’s a support group, too.”

 

“And?” Katniss demands, screwing the cap on the jar with force.

 

“And… I think you should go. I think it would really help.”

 

“And why Mom, tell me, why would I need help?” Katniss asks, her voice sharper than a knife, yet soft in volume.

 

“Sweetheart…” Katniss flinches as her mother suddenly appears by her side and touches the small of her back. She has to stretch to do it.  “Sweetheart, I-I worry about you. And I know you worry about me, that I’ll get bad again, but I would never do that to you. It’s been a few weeks since-since the funeral.” Her voice is thick, and Katniss knows she’s three words away from crying. “But-”

 

Before her mother can go on, Katniss sighs and says, “Okay. Okay, I’ll go. I’ll do it.”

 

She looks up, surprised, eyes shining, and Katniss’s heart hurts when she sees the hope welling up in them. “Really? Are you really going to try?”

 

“Yeah, Mom.” Katniss crouches down beside her mother and lays down her head on her shoulder. “I’ll try. For you.”

 

***

 

Katniss is seriously regretting her decision as she nears the church and a sign that says JESUS LOVES YOU. Her mother is at her physical therapy session at the Memorial Hospital. Apparently, the adolescent group therapy is on complete different days than the adult one. Whatever. Katniss needs some alone time, anyways, now that the two spend almost every second together. It’s one of the silver linings of it all. Losing half her family and being paralyzed from the waist down seemed to jolt Katniss’s mother back to reality, which is really really really helpful, especially since Katniss is constantly in monotone after their death.

 

She carefully parks the car in an empty space and sighs deeply, resting her head on the steering wheel. You’re ready, Katniss tells herself. This place will help you. It’ll help you get over Prim and Dad, it’ll help you help Mom, it’ll help you forget that blonde-haired boy…

 

It’s been a month since the bombing. Every single freaking night since then, Katniss is haunted by a boy with light blonde curls and luminescent blue eyes. Sometimes, he’s the monster who planted the bombs in the first place, laughing maniacally as her family is blown to bits. Other times he’s on fire, like the police say she herself was, screaming as the flames engulf and swallow him whole. He’s decapitated by a falling chunk of ceiling, he’s screaming screaming screaming as his legs are crushed underneath a gray column, he’s sprawled on the ground, pale and covered in bright red blood, eyes wide and unseeing…

 

No matter what terrifying scenario happens, Katniss is there. And every single time, she is unable to do _anything_. All she can do is scream as her family is physically torn apart, all she can do is stare at the deformed head rolling up to her feet.

 

It can’t happen anymore. Katniss honestly thinks she will lose her mind if the terrifying nightmares continue every time she closes her eyes.

 

She’s done.

 

Katniss takes another shuddering breath, pockets her keys, and steps out of the car. She swings her backpack over her shoulder and heads towards the church. There’s a sign at the entrance. It reads: GOD ALWAYS GIVES ENOUGH STRENGTH FOR THE NEXT STEP.

 

Katniss doesn’t know if it’s bad luck or payback for her sins in her past life, but she seems to be lacking in the strength department.

 

Or maybe God is just being an asshole and is skimping out on helping her just because he thinks Katniss isn’t worth his time.

  
She takes the next step.


	2. Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again to Briony for taking the time to beta. I hope you enjoy!

  
  


“Who the _fuck_. Invented _stairs_? ‘Cause I will fucking _kill_ him. And then _eat_ him. For my goddamn _lunch_. _FUCKING_ asshole.”

 

Katniss seriously wants to bang her head on the wall, eat a strawberry popsicle, and smack Johanna Mason on the head. Not necessarily in that order.

 

Katniss has been in the God forsaken church for seven fucking minutes, and already she wants out. She hasn’t even gone to therapy yet.

 

Those seven minutes (and counting) are being spent climbing stairs. Because apparently, there is no elevator in the goddamn church, and apparently, there are ten flights of stairs.

 

Ten flights isn’t all that bad. Hell, Katniss has hiked eight miles straight in the woods before, tracking some deer.

 

But those eight miles were spent with her father and best friend, Gale Hawthorne. Not Johanna Mason, another messed up as fuck girl Katniss had picked up on floor three.

 

She knows nothing of Johanna, besides one, she hates stairs; two, she likes making threats; three, she says fuck in every single sentence; and four, Johanna is pretty fucking messed up and hella scary.

 

Finally, finally, after ten torturous minutes, the two reach the tenth floor.

 

Johanna sprawls on the ground, moaning about her back and her legs and why, in the name of Jesus friggen Christ, why does this stupid church not have an elevator?!

 

Even though Katniss pretty much considers herself a heathen, Johanna’s words were a bit much, considering where they were and the whole don’t say Lord’s name in vain business. The group therapist/Jesus lover whose name was Plutarch looked properly traumatized after Johanna’s outburst.

 

Katniss calmly steps over Johanna and sits down at one of the blue plastic chairs that are lined in a neat semi circle. Some kids are already there. One of them, a devilishly handsome boy with a seductive smirk that she hates already, walks over and sits next to Katniss, crossing his long, athletic legs. He has perfect bronze skin and messy, yet perfectly styled curls. With his chiseled body, bright green eyes, and confident smile, Katniss immediately knows what he’s after.

 

“Want some gum?” He asks in low, sexy voice, reaching into his pocket and revealing a large handful of the candy. Katniss almost laughs at how comical it is. They’re in a support group. For messed up kids. Not at some bar on 65th street. But then again, he’d probably be offering to buy her a drink, not give her a stick of gum.

 

“No thanks. I’m good,” Katniss replies stiffly.

 

The kid shrugs, and pops a few pieces in his mouth, chewing thickly. He still manages to look good while doing it, though. “Suit yourself. I’m Finnick Odair, at your service.” He stands and does this bow that gets half the girls in the room giggling. Katniss wants to puke. How shallow does he think she is?

 

“Hi Finnick. I’m Katniss Everdeen. Come here. I have a little something for you.” She motions for him to get closer, and he smiles and closes his eyes, like she’s going to kiss him.

 

Instead of a kiss though, Finnick Odair gets a smack in the face and a loud, “Fuck off!” He knows now not to mess with her. She’s been through enough shit to spot a playboy, good-for-nothing, douchebag.

 

A few minutes later, the session starts. The guy named Plutarch is running it. “It looks like we have a few new faces today.” The man smiles at Katniss. She doesn’t smile back.

 

He then reads roughly ten passages from the Bible, and ends his introduction with, “Remember, God always gives enough strength for the next step.”

 

Katniss wonders if it’s their slogan or something, because she’s literally seeing that everywhere.

 

After that, introduction time. Name, age, and if you’re comfortable, reason why you are here. There’s first the mental illness: depression, eating disorders, anxiety disorders, a compulsive liar, and two OCD kids. Then there’s the addicts: alcohol, drugs, porn (when the kid, Marvel is his name, says he’s ‘overcoming a crippling addiction to pornography’ , Johanna leans over Katniss and says, “What do you prefer? Single, doubles, fetish…” needless to say, it was very awkward.) And then the victims: rape, abuse, bullies, etc.

 

Then there’s her. Katniss isn’t sure whether she’s here because of bereavement for her father and sister, or because of the things she witnessed in the bombing.

 

So she just says that her father and sister were killed in the terrorist attack on Grand Central Station. Everyone stares at her. Plutarch smiles sympathetically, and everyone else follows suit. Even Johanna lessens her glare just slightly.

 

Katniss hates it.

 

She hates being the center of pity. She hates it so much. While she sits there, internally brooding, Plutarch interrupts her thoughts.

 

“Katniss, being our newest member of the group, why don’t you share some of your feelings and how you’re doing.”

 

You're a joke, Katniss thinks, glaring at him.

 

Evidently, this man gets a lot of messed up teenagers that only glare and scowl and reply in one word answers or nothing at all, because he only smiles and quotes another Bible passage.

 

Katniss is about to slap him.

 

Eventually, he moves on to a girl, (Annie is it?) who is the perfect model for crazy. But she obviously has been here before, having a perfect response to the how are you feeling today? question. She even throws in a fews lines from the Bible.

 

As Katniss sits there, effectively drowning out Johanna’s complaining, Finnick’s flirting, Plutarch’s Bible quoting, and everyone else's chatter, she’s filled with a strange sort of pain that she can’t quite put a finger on. It’s not like the stomach-wrenching, can’t-fucking-breath type of pain Katniss experienced when she was told from her hospital bed in the burn unit her sister and father had not survived. The pain definitely isn’t that intense, physical torture that she experienced in the immediate aftermath of the attack. It’s just. Just...

 

There. It’s just there. And it leaves Katniss with a strange, empty, and hollow feeling, and she really really really hates it, because she can’t think and she can’t feel anything. When the terrible, awful, utterly controllable pain is within her. Because she can’t explain to anyone this pain, which doesn’t hurt, because it numbs everything. The pain is controllable, because she can just hold it within her. But sometimes the most scarring wounds are on the inside, and this is definitely one of them.

 

It’s like a drug, she realizes. It feels like when she was high on the morphine in the burn unit, and how all she could feel was nothing except for happiness and rainbows and unicorns. But this is eight-hundred times worse than morphine, because there is no rainbows and unicorns that comes with it. All it does is numb her. And when she’s feeling this pain Katniss can’t do anything but hold it in, but it’s so terrifying because she can’t feel any love for her mother. She doesn’t feel any love towards Prim, no love for her father. No sadness, or fear, or nothing. She’s nothing. And what’s the scariest about it, about this newfound pain that’s always there, is that it is always there.

 

Katniss glances up, and realizes everyone’s staring at her. Plutarch’s eyes are filled with such shock and immense sadness it scares her. The other teens are just stareing, some with their mouths open, speechless.

 

Katniss realizes she must’ve said all that messed up shit aloud. Judging by the faces of her fellow group-mates, that’s not the kind of stuff they share at support group.

 

She stands up and stumbles away, muttering something about using the bathroom. Plutarch calls her name, but by the time she fully registers what he’s saying, she’s gone.

 

Katniss somehow finds her way down the countless flights of stairs, and ends up outside, hunkered down by some old sycamore tree in the corner of the parking lot. All she can think about is Prim and her father, buried deep in the ground, with their eyes cold and unseeing.

 

Her sister will never grow old, will never get to kiss a boy other than Rory Hawthorne, will never travel the world, will never eat a Rocky Road ice cream again. Her sister, who died at age twelve. Her sister, who Katniss was not able to save.

 

She thinks about her father, the kindest man in the world. A man who will never take his daughters to the beach again, a man who will never get the promotion he’d been working so hard for, will never again kiss his wife, never again hug his daughters. Her father, whose birthday is in two weeks, and God, he was almost fifty years old.

 

Katniss doesn’t know when she starts crying, when the tears start falling and probably will never stop. Her crying is the loud, ugly type that hurts your stomach and your chest and your everything, and makes anyone hearing wonder if the person crying will be okay ever again.

 

“Um, excuse me? Are you okay? Do you need me to call someone?” A boy’s voice asks from above her in an alarming tone.

 

Her sobs have since then calmed down to an annoying hiccup, though her eyes are still leaking water. Katniss looks up through blurry eyes and focusses on the boy in front of her. He has messy, golden-blonde curls and tan skin - fitting the stereotypical definition of a lifeguard or surfer dude from California. He’s fairly tall, and has a nice, athletic body. His eyes, though, his eyes are what take her breath away, because sure, they are beautiful, but looking into his clear blue eyes, Katniss realizes something. She knows this boy.

 

She _knows_ this boy.

 

Katniss doesn’t know how long she sits there, gawking at the boy in front of her with fucking tears still streaming down her face (goddamn it, stop crying!) because he’s alive and well. Maybe not well - she has no idea the physical and emotional scars that are hidden underneath his worried expression and thick sweatshirt and sweat pants.

 

Hell, she has no idea if he’s even fucking sane. But he’s here, and he’s alive.

 

Katniss can work with alive.

 

He frowns a little, and sits down next her, grimacing as he does so. Only then does she notice the thin, metal cane that he carries. ”Hey, hey, stop crying. I’m not that ugly, am I?”  

 

Katniss blinks herself out of her trance and wipes away her tears, laughing breathlessly as she does so. “No. No, no you’re not. You’re just. Just.” She isn’t sure how to phrase oh, I just saw you that day when my, and probably your, life was ruined. No biggie. without freaking him out. So she just says: “You just… you look like someone I saw on a very important day.”

 

The boy purses his lips and then nods, straightening out his leg with a wince. “Okay. Okay, fair enough. My name is Peeta Mellark.” He holds out his hand for Katniss to shake.

 

She tentatively takes the hand, feeling the scars that fit perfectly with hers. “I’m Katniss Everdeen.”

 

He smiles. “Katniss? Like the plant?”

 

She raises an eyebrow. “Pita? Like the bread?”

 

He laughs, and it’s a beautiful sound, full and rich and loud. “Fair enough. And to answer your question, it’s Peeta, as in P-E-E-T-A.”

 

“Hm.”

 

They sit in silence for a few seconds. It’s just starting to get awkward, when Peeta suddenly opens his mouth to say something. Katniss waits, but then he frowns and closes his mouth again.

 

Well. That just got awkward again pretty quickly.

 

When he does it again for two more times, she sighs out, “Just ask me whatever you want to ask.”

 

Peeta blinks in surprise. “Um, wow. Am I really that obvious?”

 

Katniss shrugs. “I’m good at reading people. And the mouth opening is sort of a given. So go ahead. Shoot.”

 

“Okay. Okay. Um, can I ask… um, why are you… why were you crying in the middle of a church parking lot?”

 

“That is… that is actually a very good question. I have no idea, actually.”

 

“Katniss. I’ve known you for all of ten minutes, and already I can tell when you’re blowing bullshit. It already took me a lot of courage to ask that. So answer it,” he says. Katniss was always awful at lying.

 

“If I’m not telling you, there’s a reason, okay?” She snaps, immediately regretting her harsh tone when a look of hurt flashes across his clear blue eyes.

 

“Okay, okay. Jeez. I’m sorry.” Peeta says, eyes wide.

 

“Yeah…” she grumbles, scooching farther from him.

 

This time, the silence really is awkward. Katniss can sense he’s about to leave, the way he clears his throat and shifts a little.

 

“Um, hey, I think I have to go now…”

 

He can’t leave. “Wait!” The words are out of her mouth before she can stop them.

 

Katniss… she doesn’t know him. She doesn’t know anything about him, except for his name and that he probably lost a leg (what else would the cane be used for?) and his family and his life. Katniss doesn’t know him, but she wants to. She needs to. Katniss doesn’t know how to explain it, this connection she feels with Peeta. She doesn’t even understand it herself.

 

But whatever it is, it’s enough to make Katniss grab his hand when he stands. “I’ll go with you.”

  
She thinks he smiles. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading. Find me on tumblr at darknessinastateofmind. Kudos and comments are appreciated.


	3. Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again to Briony for the looking over this chapter.

 

They pass the library, donut shop, and the post office before either one of them says anything.

 

“I work there.” Peeta points across the street to the art gallery/coffee shop. Katniss has only passed the shop, never entered, and she tells him so.

 

His eyes widen. “Really? I’d have thought everyone in this tiny town would have at least gone in to buy one of our famous muffins, being that it’s the only coffee shop in this Godforsaken place.”

 

She shrugs. “My family doesn’t have much money. A night out at Wendy’s and a rented movie would be considered big for us. My dad is - I mean was - a delivery guy for UPS. Not exactly the kind of job that has the dollars rolling in.”

 

Peeta doesn’t comment on the use of past tense to describe Katniss’ dad, and for that she’s grateful. What he does do is take her hand and pull her over to the nearest crosswalk, insisting that he will take her to the coffee shop and buy her a Goddamn muffin, and does she like blueberry or apricot?

 

“Whoa, whoa.” Katniss puts her hands out to stop the avalanche of words pouring out of his mouth. “I never said I would let you buy me a muffin…”

 

“Oh, so you don’t like muffins? It’s okay, our cookies are really good too. And you have to try the coffee. Freshly brewed every morning right in our shop. And--”

 

“No, no, I love muffins. But my money’s in my car, and I have to pick up my mom at five…”

 

“It’s only four o’clock  now. And it’s okay. I’ll pay.”

 

Katniss narrows her eyes. “Just ‘cause I told you my family was poor, doesn’t mean I can’t buy a damn muffin by myself.” She isn’t sure where her anger is coming from, but she’s always been salty with people who talked about money ignorantly.

 

“Katniss,” Peeta says softly. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to offend you in any way. If you really, truly, deeply want to pay for your own muffin, nobody’s stopping you. But really, it would be my pleasure to get you a muffin. If, of course, that is what you desire.” He had begun chuckling by the second sentence, and the next thing the two of them knew, they both were laughing and giggling like children.

 

Katniss took a deep breath in, trying to calm her giggles. “Okay. Okay, I will let you have the pleasure of buying me a blueberry muffin. But, really, seriously. Next time, it’s my treat.”

 

“Next time?” Peeta asks, wiggling his eyebrows as he leans over to press the crosswalk button.

 

“Don’t get cocky now,” she answers, rolling her eyes. “Seriously? Who the hell presses the button and waits for the walk signal?”

 

“Um… me?”

 

“Peeta. There’s no cars. Let’s go.”

 

“No! I don’t do these kind of things. Let’s just wait.” After a few seconds, the light lit up, and he casts Katniss a smug look. “Now we can go.”

 

***

 

The place was beautiful. Brick walls, wooden ceilings and floors, and the crackly fireplace made Katniss feel like collapsing on one of the soft, leather couches right then and there. Gorgeous paintings depicting landscapes from rolling hills to dark forests to towering castles lined the walls.

 

“Welcome to Panem’s!”  a voice greets them as they enter. “Come and see our beautiful artwork or sit down for - Peeta! Hey, what are you doing here?” Katniss immediately cringes when she sees who is speaking. Finnick Odair, the playboy who tried to offer her gum at the church. Katniss tries to melt into the shadows, but Finnick sees her first.

 

“Hey! It’s Katniss, right? Where’d you go after you went all crazy on us and started ranting about some seriously depressing shit?”

 

She starts to blush, but refuses to let Finnick see her embarrassed. “I saw Peeta and we started talking.”

 

Peeta, for his part, just stares at the two of them. “Wait, you guys know each other?”

 

“Yeah!” Finnick answers before Katniss can speak. “We met at support group with ol’ Plutarch. Speaking of-”

 

“Support group? You go there?” Peeta asks her quizzically.

 

“Um yeah… I guess that’s why I was in the church parking lot losing my shit.”

 

“Speaking of...,” Finnick butts in, leaning against the checkout counter, his bronze curls shining in the afternoon sun. “Where were you at group today? I know you found this lovely lady in the parking lot, but it’s not like you to miss a session.”

 

“Uh, I was with my brother.” Peeta’s voice pitches down when he says this, and Katniss notices that his face is closed off and distant, so different from the expression she had grown accustomed to in the short time that she had known him.   
  


Finnick frowns and scrunches his brow worriedly, but a slight shake of Peeta’s head makes Finnick purse his lips and ask for their order.

 

Katniss has a few small (big) secrets of her own. She’ll let him keep a few.

 

She walks around the coffee shop while Peeta orders for the two of them, peering at the paintings. While viewing them from far away, she could tell they were beautiful, but close up, they were absolutely breathtaking.

 

One painting particularly catches her attention. It’s one of a young girl, about the age of Prim. She has chocolate skin and long dark curls. Her eyes are closed, and she is holding a bouquet of white flowers. She’s dead, buried in a grave of wildflowers.

 

Katniss stares at the painting for a long, long time. A lump forms in her throat, and she swallows thickly, unsure of where her emotions are coming from.

 

“Do you like it?” Someone says from behind her, and she turns. Peeta. He’s gazing at the painting, too, but the words are directed at her.

 

“Yeah. It’s… it’s incredible.”

 

“I painted it. All the ones here,” he answers, tapping his metal cane on the ground like a blind man.

 

“Oh. Oh, wow. They’re um, they’re amazing. Everyone of them,” she says in surprise.

 

He smiles slightly. “Thanks. I painted this,” he nods at the one of the dead girl, “last year.”

 

“It’s incredible,” Katniss repeats, and his smile widens.   
  


“Here.” He hands her a brown paper bag labeled with the shop’s name and a coffee. “I got you blueberry.”

 

The door dings, signaling the entrance of a customer. The two of them watch the door for a while until three more people come, all tired-looking. “Ah, rush hour must be starting,” Peeta states with a smile.

 

Katniss smirks. “Coffee shops have rush hours? And who the hell has one at four-forty-five?” She asks while checking her watch.

 

“Think about it. After a long day of work, don’t you just want to go to a nice, comfortable coffee shop with AC and stellar muffins? And I don’t say stuff like ‘stellar’ that was really weird. I’m cooler than that.”

 

“Of course you are,” she replies, her smirk widening. “Anyways, I have to go pick up my mom now. Thanks for the muffin and the coffee.”

 

“Wait. When can I see you again?”

 

“Well, I’m assuming you go to group too, so I guess then?”

 

Peeta pouts. “That long? Can I at least have your number?”

 

“Fine.” She rattles off the numbers and he writes them down on a napkin. When she finishes, he smiles at her. “I guess I’ll see you around, then,” he says.

 

“Yeah, okay. Bye.” Katniss walks to the exit, after waving goodbye to Finnick.

 

***

 

On the drive to pick up her mother, Katniss can’t stop thinking about Peeta. She wonders if it was a mistake not to tell him that the “important day” where she saw him was the last time she was happy. And also the day her life fell apart.

 

She wonders if she’s making a mistake, not telling him that she is broken.

 

Katniss tries to tell herself that technically, she’s not lying. She’s just simply withholding part of the truth. But if she has to be honest, she knows that if the roles were reversed, she would have wanted Peeta to tell her something so important.

 

So why the hell can’t she?

 

Katniss knows why she can’t tell him. The deepest of scars are hidden underneath, and she has a lot of those. She’s irreparably scarred, and irreparably broken.

 

And she’s terrified that he’ll find out.

 

***

 

The text comes when she’s brushing her teeth.

 

_Hey it’s Peeta :)_

 

She finishes brushing her teeth, washes her face, and climbs into bed before she replies, trying to come up with something witty:

 

_Never knew u were one for smiley faces._

 

His response makes her giggle:

 

_Im just full of surprises._

 

Katniss replies:

 

_I bet. So… any real reason why u r texting me at 11?_

 

He writes:

 

_No. Not really, just... when can I see u?_

 

Katniss chews on her bottom lip. What is she supposed to say to that?

 

_Certainly not anytime soon._

 

Acting coy and flirting is brand new for her, even if they’re just texting. Katniss sort of likes it.  

 

He texts:

 

_WHY???!!!_

 

She replies:

 

_I just saw u 2day!_

 

She laughs again at his response:

 

_Yeah but… when u wake up it’ll be TOMORROW and I cant wait that long!_

 

Katniss texts:

 

_Patience, Grasshopper. Ur coming off as a tad bit over-eager._

 

Peeta replies:

 

_It’s just what I excel at._

She taps on calendar and looks through the stuff she has scheduled for this week. Doctor appointments, doctor appointments, and more doctor appointments. But she’s relatively free on Friday, so she tells him so.

 

_Cool :) I’ll come by ur house at 12 and pick u up for lunch at that pizza place downtown?_

 

Katniss frowns. Him picking her up at her house sounds too much like a date, and no matter how much she likes talking to him, she just isn’t ready for that.

 

_No, its ok we can just meet up._

 

His response makes her frown, for some reason:

 

_Ok, whatever u want_

 

Maybe it’s just wishful thinking, but some part of her wants it to be a date.

 

***

 

The maybe-date goes great. She actually has fun in what seems like forever. She has this moment of hope where she thinks that maybe, one day, she’ll be okay again, but then all of a sudden she thinks of Prim and her father, and how can she ever think of being happy when they’re dead?

 

In fact, the more time she spends with Peeta, the more guilt she feels. Her nightmares, which had just begun to fade away, reappear again, and this time with a certain ferocity that jolts her awake at night, shaking, sweating and screaming.

 

Katniss considers talking to her mother about it, but then she quickly vetoes the idea, knowing that her mother would only make her go to another therapist, and she does not need another person telling her to “share her feelings”.

 

She even considers telling Peeta, since he would probably understand, but then he would probably want to know why, and Katniss is too broken, too scarred, too _tired_ to explain.

 

Actually, the only person she really wants to talk to about the nightmares and the guilt is her father, but he’s dead and ultimately the cause of these feelings.

 

Peeta would probably say that she’s in a pickle, because he just says stuff like that.

  
Pickle or not, she’s in trouble, because how can she be happy and move on when she keeps on feeling guilty when she is?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again for reading. Find me on tumblr at darknessinastateofmind. I'm always free to chat. Kudos and comments are appreciated :)


	4. Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for the wait. This chapter is relatively short, but the next will be out soon. Again, much thanks to Briony for looking over this chapter. I really hope you enjoy!

_Katniss finds herself in front of a gravestone that she recognizes. Her phantom legs collapse underneath her and she sinks to the ground. It's suddenly all she can do to stay awake._

__

_“Katniss?” A voice whispers next to her, and she forces open her heavy eyelids._

__

_“Prim,” she breaths, eyes opening wide. Her little sister sits cross-legged next to her, skin translucent and ghost-like._

__

_“Yes, Katniss. It’s me,” Prim purrs in an almost condescending voice. “Have you missed me, dear sister?”_   
  


_Katniss tries to speak, but her mouth is glue._   
  


_Prim plows on, unaware or uncaring of her dilemma. “I’ve definitely missed you. Do you realize how annoying it is to be dead? How alone I am every single day?” She scoffs, rolling her pale blue eyes, which had always seemed cheerful and happy to Katniss, but now look like pure ice. “Obviously you wouldn’t care, what with that pretty little boy you’ve started hanging around. God, Katniss, I can’t believe you’d abandon me. Don’t you even love me anymore? Or am I just the dead sister that you occasionally think about to please your conscience?” Prim practically spits out._

__

_Katniss’ mouth suddenly opens and a torrent of words come flooding out along with the tears. “P-prim, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for you to feel this way, I’m so sorry. I do love you, really, I do. I just… I just thought that you’d be happy for me. I-I thought you’d be happy that I’m finally starting to be happy again,” she stammers, her salty tears burning her cheeks._

__

_“HAPPY?!” Prim shrieks, and suddenly she’s covered in blood. Her hand and one of her legs and a chunk of what seems to be her shoulder are missing. Her golden curls are burned off, along with a big chunk of her cheek. “WHY WOULD I BE HAPPY WHEN I LOOK LIKE THIS? WHY WOULD I BE HAPPY IF I’M DEAD? HOW CAN YOU BE HAPPY?”_

__

_Suddenly, she’s letting out these awful, high pitched screams that sound very much like Katniss’ alarm clock…_

***

Katniss jerks awake with a start. Cold sweat covers her skin. Her thin arms are lined with goose flesh, and her throat is raw from screaming.

She stumbles to the bathroom across the hall and leans against the sink, breathing heavily. She can’t get the image of the gruesome remains of her sister out of her head. She turns on the faucet to get the water running, then splashes her face with the cold water, which jars her back to reality.

_My name is Katniss Everdeen. I am seventeen years old. My sister is dead. So is my father. They are dead because of me. It’s my fault. It’s my fault…_

She shakes her head and scrubs at her face again, then looks up at the mirror. Her olive skin is paler than usual, and dark bags hang underneath her stormy-grey eyes. Her dark hair hangs limply on the sides of her face. In conclusion, she looks like hell.

Katniss grabs her brush and a bottle of lip gloss, then starts the difficult task of making herself look mildly presentable for group therapy.

***

“Support group was actually sort of bearable today,” she remarks to Peeta as they cross the street.

He smirks. “Yeah. Plutarch is one hell of a guy. Really talented, too. During my first session, I was blown away by his awesome skill. Still amazes.”

“Yeah?” Katniss asks with a smirk. “And what skill is that?”

“The incredible talent that is being able to quote a passage from the bible in every single freaking sentence,” he deadpans.

Katniss swallows a laugh and puts on a mock offended face. “Hey, don’t insult my man Plutarch. It really is a valuable skill. You have no idea all you can do in life if you know the Bible by heart, it’s pretty damn insane.”

“Oh yeah? Now I’m gonna start memorizing it, so I can become the next Plutarch and help troubled kids see the light,” at this, he does air quotes.  

“And how will you do that?”

“By boring them shitless.”

She smiles again, but it’s a half-hearted one. The guilt, which had been gnawing on her in the pit of her stomach starts to surface, and all she can think of is her mutilated dead sister coming up from the ground, cold and ready to haunt, not the kind, selfless, handsome, genuine, and alive boy in front of her.

Great. Now she’s being violated by her dead family in the daytime, too.

Her smile, which had become an ever-present part of her since she meet Peeta, slips from her face and is replaced with a frown. Peeta is still doing the Plutarch bashing that had become their tradition after therapy, so she mumbles out a random excuse and discreetly slips away before he can even blink.

She’ll deal with the guilt of abandoning him later.

***

She spends the rest of the day dodging Peeta’s calls and texts. Katniss opens the first few messages that come, but after about ten of them, she stops and just stares at her iPhone screen as every ding! reminds her of what a bitch she is.

Finally, she shuts the whole damn thing off and tosses it across the bedroom onto the carpet, then buries her face in a pillow and screams.

“Katniss!” Her mother’s voice calls from down the hall.

She pulls her face away from her pillow and makes her way down the hall and opens the door to her mother’s room. Probably wants me to get some food for dinner, she thinks.

She can’t help the horrified scream that tears it’s way through her mouth.

***

The hospital is filled with serious doctors, tired nurses, sad patients, and even sadder visitors. Katniss doesn’t know why Emergency is said to be fast, because if she’s learnt anything in the five hours she’s been there is that hospital time vs. actual time is really fucking different.

The nice nurse said her mother would be moved to the ICU no later than four o’clock. It’s eight now.

She paces and paces and paces some more until the nice nurse says, perhaps not-so-nicely now, _to_ _stop pacing, you’re disrupting the patients._

So she leaves.

She leaves Emergency, with its grumpy nurses and her unconscious mother. Her feet take her past bald kids and old people with dazed eyes, stick-thin anorexics and the NICU filled with tiny babies no bigger than a fist. 

Katniss finds herself at the food court where she orders a cup of hot chocolate and settles in the corner. It’s all your fault! she thinks to herself. You knew she would’ve forgotten about the medicine, you idiot…

“Katniss!” A familiar voice interrupts her self-pity, and she looks up to find Peeta waving at her from across the cafeteria. He limps his way over to her, and Katniss wants to hide. Anyone would be better than Peeta. Hell, she’d even take Finnick and Johanna over him. Peeta’s… complicated. She doesn’t know how to deal with complicated.

“What are you doing here?” he asks her.

“My mom,” she says, and doesn’t elaborate. “You?”

“My brother.” He averts his eyes when he says this and shifts uncomfortably in his seat.

Again with the mysterious brother. “Oh. Um, is he okay?”

“Yeah, I guess. Um, we-we were in a… um, an accident, I guess. He got hurt pretty bad.”

They sit in awkward silence for a few minutes. She’s always been awful at empathy, and comforting others is definitely not one of her strong suits. But she doesn’t need to because suddenly, Peeta opens his mouth and a torrent of words come pouring out, so many that initially, Katniss can’t even wrap her mind around them.

“It wasn’t an accident, actually. It was that terrorist attack, you know the one on the Grand Central Station a few months ago? I was there. My whole family was. They’re dead. All of them. My dad, mom, and oldest brother. That’s where I lost the leg. My brother, Rye, he’s not dead but he got messed up really badly. They say a falling piece of debris fell from sky and got him in the head. He probably should be dead, but some miracle saved him, apparently. Great load of utter horse-shit, he’s in a fucking coma, and how is that a miracle?” His words are bitter, filled with hate, and his whole face is contorted with anger.

“Peeta…” She feels tears prick at the side of her eyes and she reaches forward, without thinking, and wraps her fingers around his hand. “I’m so sorry.”

He squeezes back and it seems like all the anger just deflates out of him with that one squeeze and his shoulders drop in defeat. When he opens his mouth, the words are hollow. “He’s on life support now. They’re… they’re thinking about unplugging him because he’s been unresponsive for so long.” He’s crying now, fat tears rolling down his pale cheeks.

She reaches forward and brushes them away, conscious of the tears running down her own face.

What a pair we make, Katniss thinks. Both of us broken and littered with scars hidden underneath this facade that we put up, scars that are so much deeper than those visible.

 **  
** What a pair.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and kudos motivate me to write. Find me on tumblr at darknessinastateofmind.

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on tumblr at darknessinastateofmind. Thanks for reading! Next chapter coming out in a week or two :)


End file.
